Nate (The Princesses of Silicon Valley - Book 4) (4 page)

The rotation in Jacksonville is much easier this time since I already know the drill. After I get back Mariana and I enjoy a fun summer hanging with friends. All seems to be well until I come home from work late one night and see a sheet from a prescription pad on the kitchen counter with Mariana’s engagement ring on top. The note says:

Dear Nate,

I love you, but love isn’t enough. I thought it would be easiest if I left quietly. I’ve taken a job in Atlanta. Good luck with your life.

Mariana

Standing in my kitchen, I think I’m in shock. We’ve been together almost three years. No conversation; all I get is a Dear John letter. Why? What went wrong? What didn’t I do?

Walking around our apartment like a zombie, she’s taken what she wanted and left what she didn’t want, which includes me. Some of her toiletries and clothes are still in the closet and in the bathroom. Our bed, the bed I bought is gone. While her old crappy bed remains in the guest room. The couch I paid for --that she chose-- is gone, while the chair she bought --that I’ve always hated-- remains. Most of the stuff in the kitchen is gone, though she left me the fancy coffee maker she had to have. Then again, she never could figure out how to use it. Wandering from room to room, I open up closets and drawers cataloging what’s left of my life.

Calling her phone, I get moved directly into voicemail, which doesn’t stop me from blowing up her phone with texts. I start off with;
What happened?
and move to;
Why did you leave?
And end up with:
Please come home.

Checking Facebook I see she hasn’t blocked me from her page, as I scroll through her history, our history. Not even having the energy to be angry, I sit down on the floor, holding the engagement ring between my thumb and finger, and cry. I think it’s the first time I’ve cried since elementary school.

***

Inevitably, a few days after she leaves I run into one of her friends. She gives me an uncomfortable hello. The only thing I can think of saying is, “Do you know if Mariana got to Atlanta safely?”

“Yeah, we’ve been texting. She’s getting settled in.”

I guess her phone’s working. Having a million questions to ask, I don’t know how to formulate any of them. Not wanting to be pathetic all I can manage is to shake my head and say, “I’ll see you around.”

I’ve been avoiding calls from friends and family, just texting back things like;
Really busy
.

At some point, the sadness moves to anger. I’ve become a holy terror at MMA.

Melissa calls me, “When were you going to tell me that Mariana left?”

“How’d you hear?”

“Facebook. I saw she changed her city and relationship status. How are you doing?”

“Yeah, me, I’m fine.”

“You’re such a liar.”

Chuckling for the first time in weeks, I respond, “Yeah, but it’s how I get through the day.”

Finally, I ask the question I really want to know. “Melissa, why’d she leave? She never said anything. I just came home one night and she’d move out.”

“I have no idea. What do her friends say?”

“Yeah, I’m going to call up her friends. We’ll all sit around paint our nails and talk about our feelings.”

Melissa laughs, and then after a brief spell of quiet she says, “Maybe she thought marrying you would make her happy. When she still wasn’t happy after you guys got engaged, she had to leave.”

“What does that mean?”

“That means she had this bright personality, but the women underneath wasn’t happy. She was looking for someone else to make her happy. When that didn’t work, she had to move on.”

“I would have been there for her.”

“Yeah, but that might not have been what she wanted. Anyway, I barely knew the women. It’s you I care about.”

“I’m going to be fine.”

“Yeah, I know you are. I just called to tell you that your friends care.”

My sister finally gets a hold of me. “You sure dodged a bullet on that one.”

Almost hanging up the phone on her, I say, “Fuck you.”

“Come on, Nate, that chick was just a crazy control freak. You spent almost three years catering to her every crazy ass whim. When messing with you no longer made her happy she moved on. “

“But, why did she sneak out? Why didn’t she at least tell me?”

“And what would you have done if she told you?”

“Convince her to stay.”

“You now have your answer.”

Changing the conversation, I say, “How’s California?”

“I’m happy. I’m playing soccer, I like my job, and the weather’s great. No little white line on my shoes from the snow and salt.”

We don’t say anything. Finally, Jamie says, “Nate, come out here. You’re almost done with your residency. When you’re done, come to California. It would be great to have you nearby.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Don’t, ‘yeah whatever’ me. There’s nothing for you in Minnesota. Come to California. Hey, promise me this, at least you’ll check it out.”

Throwing my energy into work helps my career. For my last nine months, I’ve been the chief resident. With gallows humor I think this is good since Mariana would have hated the extra time chief resident requires. I’m also in great shape since I don’t have much of life other than working and working out. On my days off I head north to snow shoe and cross country ski.

***

A few months after Mariana left I head to one of the bars I went to when I was single. Sitting in my car, I just can’t get the motivation up to go inside. A few weeks later, I join a couple of the guys from my hockey team who are heading over to a sports bar. Watching the women at the bar, I know exactly who I’d hit on if I wanted a hookup. The thought of a hookup is just depressing; I have no interest in sleeping with random women. I’m finally at a point where I can say I want another girlfriend. I’m just not ready to find one.

On my winter vacation, I go scuba diving in the Andaman Sea, staying in Coh Pee Pee, Thailand. It takes forever to get there, but I’m not ready to go back to the Caribbean since it has too many memories. On the first day of scuba diving, I meet a reserved, tall, thin, blond, German woman—the polar opposite of Mariana. After scuba diving for the day, we go out for dinner, and then spend the next ten days in each other’s arms. It’s the first time I’ve been with a woman since Mariana left. Lying in bed with her, I know she’s not my future, but I realize that I’m moving on, which is good. Back in Rochester friends try fixing me up. The women are nice, but none touch my heart. Maybe it’s still too broken.

At the end of my residency, after passing my boards, I get offered an attending position at the Mayo Clinic. I also get an offer for a fellowship to the Jacksonville facility. With my sister’s haranguing, I apply to a couple of sports clinics in Northern California. I decide to spend a long weekend with her, heading out in October for interviews.

On Sunday morning Jamie has a soccer game. Having not seen her play since college, I go to watch. It’s a good game; the teams are evenly matched. By the end of the first quarter, the other team has two hot women in defense; they’re tiny, but fast as hell. I figure Jamie’s going to destroy them. I’m totally blown away. The women on defense remind me of Jack Russell Terriers; they’re fast, fierce, and relentless. These women are amazing at blocking the much bigger women on Jamie’s team.

Near the end of the game, I can see Jamie getting frustrated. Again, one of the little terrors gets the ball away from Jamie’s teammate, bringing it up the side. Jamie goes in to stop her ascend and bam, she runs smack into Jamie, as if Jamie was a wall. The little one’s out. Watching her lay on the field, I wonder if my sister might have killed her. I’m experienced with field injuries having had a few rotations in sports trauma and the last five years I’ve been the team physician for the local high school’s football and basketball teams. The little terror is not unconscious, just stunned.

No one else seems to have a medical background so I monitor her movements, casually jumping in when she says, “Can someone give me a hand up?”

Grabbing her under the armpits as she starts to stand, in my nice easy doctor voice I tell her, “Slow it down. Are you sure you’re ready to get up?”

She seems to be having some problems getting her legs under her. Now I’m watching to make sure she’s not injured, I also want to get her off the field so they can finish the game. Not surprisingly, this one’s scrappy. As she tries to stand, again, I tell her, “Easy now, not so fast, give yourself some time.”

Players either need to walk off the field on their own accord, or we need to call an ambulance. As she attempts to stand again; I feel her start to go down. Getting a good grip on her, I make sure she doesn’t fall and hurt herself. I’m relieved that she can walk off with just a bit of support from me. She’s favoring her right ankle. Spotting a blanket by the other spectators, I head that way. Settling her down, I quickly unlace her shoe, pull off her shin guard and sock. Then I check out her ankle to make sure she didn’t injure it. As I work my hands up to her knee, she surprises me by speaking.

“Wow, wait a second, buddy, just because I might be injured doesn’t mean you can feel me up.”

Looking up, it hits me how pretty she is. With my calm doctor voice, I tell her, “I’m a doctor, orthopedics. I am just making sure you haven’t injured anything.”

Knitting her brow, she asks in a dubious tone, “Seriously, you’re a real doctor?”

Something about this woman makes me chuckle; she sure is feisty. She definitely isn’t flirty. But what knocks me out is her beautiful porcelain skin flushed with exercise and these huge dark eyes. Her features are soft, feminine, and petite, while her personality is fierce. It’s a compelling juxtaposition.

“Seriously, I’m a medical doctor,” I tell her.

“What, business is slow at the hospital so you show up to women’s soccer games hoping to get some action?”

Yes, this women is spunky, I like that. “Only soccer games my kid sister’s in.”

“Who’s your sister?

I can’t help but chuckle when I say, “The player who took you out.”

Her eyes narrow, “What! Does she bring you for back up when she attempts to kill opposing players?”

“You’re as pugnacious off the field as you are on the field.”

Her eyes get big and round and her head tilts back as she says, “I don’t know if I should be flattered or repulsed by that comment?”

As I finish with the physical exam, I note that there isn’t anything wrong with this women’s leg. No guy has shown up to claim her. If she was my girlfriend, I sure would be right there if someone took her out. Maybe she’s single; she sure is pretty. Man, this is the first women I have felt any real interest in since Mariana left me a year ago.

Pulling a penlight out of my back pocket, I check to make sure she doesn’t have a concussion. Her dark eyes are really dark green. My mind spins. How do I ask her out without coming off smarmy? Instead, I stay cool and professional, “Yeah, it doesn’t look like you have a concussion and the ankle looks like it will be Ok.”

“Don’t you need X-rays or an MRI to know if there’s a problem?”

“If I thought there was a problem you might need an X-ray or an MRI.” She’s not really a patient, so maybe a little flirting would be Ok. “But, I’m looking at a perfectly fine pair of legs.” I say giving her eye contact and a small smile. “It just looks like you may have tweaked your ankle a little.”

“How do you know that I don’t have any damage to my spine?”

“How does your body feel?”

“I haven’t tried to stand, but sitting here now I feel normal.”

“Why don’t you try to stand?” I say as I grab her arm in case she falls over. Damn, my whole arm tingles from that contact. Watching her wiggle around, I notice that the rest of her body is as nicely proportioned as her legs. It’s hard to tell with the baggy soccer cloths but she looks slim and curvy.

“I don’t even know your name—to say thank you.”

With my best flirty smile, I say, “Nate, Doctor Nate Lombard.”

“Doctor Nate Lombard, thanks for helping me.” She says with a genuine smile. “I’m Juliette.”

She has a pretty smile that matches her pretty face. California is looking up; maybe I should seriously consider moving here. “Juliette, whose last name I don’t know, I’m glad my little sister didn’t hurt you. “

“Cole, my last name’s Cole.”

“Juliette Cole, I’m glad my little sister didn’t hurt you.”

“I’m free to go home?”

Back to doctor serious, I tell her, “I would take it easy for the rest of the day. Ice the ankle. It probably would be a good idea if you take an Aleve.”

We both stand there looking at each other. Juliette Cole—damn this women is nice looking and something more. There’s this spark. I didn’t think I would ever feel that spark again. As I contemplate my next step, Jamie comes up, placing her hand on my arm. She looks at me, and then looks at Juliette.

In her good-natured way she says, “Sorry, you’re a good player. I was just trying to get the ball away from you. I hope my brother wasn’t a jerk.”

In a friendly tone Juliette replies, “No problem. That was a fun game.” Turning back to me, she gives me eye contact and a warm smile that just about wipes me out, “Your brother was kind.”

I’m about to ask for her number when the other little defending terror comes up and interrupts. Watching Juliette for another minute, Jamie starts getting annoyed and pulls me away. Anyway, I have her name. How hard can it be to find someone in today’s connected world?

As we walk to the car, Jamie says, “I was worried about you for nothing. Looks like you’re back to hitting on women.”

Chuckling, I think it’s the first day since forever I feel like my old self.